𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟
☼
❘ ❙ ❚ . .in which a spirit
doomed to roanoke
feeds off of the fear of
others
or
all who attempt to heal
her heart s...
𝑆𝑂𝐿𝐴𝑁𝐺𝐸 𝑊𝐴𝑆 𝐴𝑊𝐴𝑅𝐸 𝑇𝐻𝐴𝑇 there was someone else staying in the house temporarily, but she hadn't met her. She had only seen this woman talking to Shelby and Matt when she first arrived, but Solange didn't care enough to introduce herself.
Solange was currently outside, sitting on the roof with only the sun illuminating her path. She was awaiting Shelby to leave the kitchen since she knew the woman was cooking. She wanted to commence more of her great plan; inflict the most pain possible. All Solange needed was the signal.
And it began. A crow, who was missing an eye and its feathers ruffled to show how this poor bird had come to its demise, landed on the chimney and crowed three times. With that go ahead, Solange's hand slowly turned to tree roots, which in turn grabbed onto the roof and allowed her to slowly lower herself onto the ground. Seemingly, Solange came out of nowhere.
As Solange's hand turned back to normal, she walked into the house through the back door. This didn't require much effort, it was only the most simple of unsettling to set off that fear chemical in the Miller's brains. Solange grabbed a kitchen knife and stabbed it into the meat that Shelby was cooking before she grabbed a bottle of wine from the rack and brought it downstairs with her.
Solange normally slept in the master bedroom, what she believed was hers, but with new residents, she had been in the basement for some time. Down in her tavern, Solange popped the cork out and took a swig. It was impossible for Solange to get drunk since her only weakness was a lack of hunting. Fire ran from the Lampad, death was afraid of her, Solange's one purpose was to hunt.
Solange did wish at times that she could be intoxicated by the whimsies of humankind. She wanted to feel something other than bloodlust, something other than anger. But it had been centuries since the last time she felt truly, completely, and utterly happy.
Solange downed all of the wine before she left it on her bedside table. She only took this as a way to jump-start something emotional, but just as expected, it did no use.
